“What?” Wilson asked, growing even angrier now. “We’re just goin’ to leave and do nothing?”
“Yeah,” Dawson replied. “We are just going to leave and do nothing.”
“I’ll be damned,” Gibson said. “I never thought I would see anything like what just happened. As a matter of fact, I’m not sure what just happened. Mr. Jensen, step up to the bar. You and your friends can have a drink on the house.”
“Hell, Rodney, does that include us?” Brandon asked. “We just made friends with Mr. Jensen.”
Gibson laughed. “Yes,” he said. “That includes everyone.”
As the men stood along the bar waiting for the drinks to be served, Lenny spoke up.
“Doc Patterson, Mr. Brandon, and Mr. Deckert were playing cards with Pearlie and Billy Ray when everything started,” Lenny said.
“Good, good, maybe I can convince you to be a witness for the defense,” Murchison said.
Brandon shook his head. “It won’t do you any good,” he said. “Doc and I left before the shooting. We didn’t see a thing.”
“What about you, Mr. Deckert?” Murchison asked.
“I wasn’t actually playing cards then,” Deckert replied.
“No, but you were sitting at the table, watching us play,” Brandon said.
“You saw it, didn’t you?” Murchison said. “You saw everything.”
“I ain’t goin’ to testify,” Deckert said.
“Why not?”
“You don’t understand,” Deckert said. “You don’t live here. None of you do. You think this is just a trial like any trial in any other town, but it ain’t. This trial has already been held, and Pearlie has already been found guilty. Don’t you understand that? He has already been found guilty. The jury, the judge, even the court, they don’t mean a thing. The only thing that means anything in this town is Pogue Quentin.”
“Mr. Deckert, I know you have seen the gallows in the middle of the street down there,” Smoke said.
“How can I not see it?” Deckert replied. “The whole town has seen it.”
“Are you willing to watch an innocent man hang, just because you are afraid to testify?”
“I’m not afraid to testify.”
“Oh?”
Deckert stroked his chin. “All right, maybe I am afraid. But if I thought it would do any good, I would testify anyway. It just won’t do any good, that’s all.”
“I’ll be a witness for you, Mr. Murchison,” Lloyd Evans said.
“You saw it?”
“I didn’t see what started it all,” the bartender said. “But I did see the end of it. I saw Billy Ray come in here, blazing away with his shotgun.”
Murchison smiled, and lifted his beer to the bartender. “That’s a start,” he said.
“Wait a minute, maybe my testimony would do you some good after all,” Brandon suggested. “I mean, Evans saw how it all ended, Doc and I saw how it started. I guess we could testify about that.”
“Hold it, Elmer, don’t count me in on that,” Doc said.
“Doc, you saw how it all began, same as I did. You could be a witness.”
“If I don’t know any more than you do about it, what good would my testimony be?”
“You afraid to testify, Doc?” Cal asked.
Doc shook his head. “It’s not that I’m afraid,” he said. “But I’m a veterinarian. I see maybe ten or twelve dogs and a couple of cats that are pets in this town. And I see thirty thousand head of cattle that belong to Quentin. I can’t make a livin’ just by tendin’ to people’s pets.”
“I see your point,” Brandon said. Brandon looked back at the lawyer. “He’s right, Mr. Murchison. Even if he does testify, he won’t be able to add to anything I might say. And testifying could cost him his livelihood.”
“All right,” Murchison said. “I guess we can get along without your testimony.”
“Thanks,” Doc said, the relief on his face obvious.
“Damn, I wish the trial was a couple of days from now,” Brandon said.
“Why is that?”
“I could write an article about it,” Brandon said. “I could write an article and remind people of their civic duty.”
Half an hour later, Brandon stood in his newspaper office, looking at the Washington Hand Press that loomed in the shadows. Walking over to it, he ran his hand across the top arc of the press, the metal feeling cool to his touch. He looked over at his type trays, then smiled.
“Why the hell not?” he asked, saying the words aloud, even though he was alone in the room. “What do you think, Emma?” he asked, looking up as if speaking to his late wife. “I’ll put out an extra. I’ve never done it before, but I can’t think of a time when there’s ever been more of a reason for one than now. Yes, sir, an extra edition.”
